


Yellow Taffeta Sundress

by windandthestars



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 22:15:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windandthestars/pseuds/windandthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's warm for this time of year, more summer than spring, the bright yellow dress she'd worn on a whim the perfect match for the sunshine and the endless field of grass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yellow Taffeta Sundress

They're north of the city somewhere, she's not sure exactly where since she'd fallen asleep on the drive, but wherever it is, it's heavenly. It's warm for this time of year, more summer than spring, the bright yellow dress she'd worn on a whim the perfect match for the sunshine and the endless field of grass. She knows it can't be more than an acre or two, but the green feels infinite, continuous.

She's kicked off her shoes in a sudden bought of whimsy and Will trails behind her, carrying them. The ground underfoot is cool, damp enough to muck up the stockings she should be wearing. She spins, giggling with the almost childish glee Will occasionally elicits from her. They're dangerous, these feelings, but right now she doesn't care.  
They only have today, these few hours before they have to drive back, before she has to walk back into the newsroom and tamp down smiles and the sickening twisting of guilt lodged in her stomach.

She hasn't heard from Brian but he's still there, with her, with them and she hates him for that. She's moved on, at least that's what she likes to tell herself, but the wounds are still fresh. Will, she thinks, knows this better than she does, because he's smiling, lazy and easy, in a way she hasn't seen before.

They're still new, untarnished, but most days she still worries, lingers over shared coffees long gone cold. Today though, she laughs, tipping her head back to drink in the sun, the skirt of her dress swirling around her knees.


End file.
